What real commitment looks like; lessons from life and fiction

     In Commitment, Marta has lost her husband, but not her desire to serve the Lord in Indonesia. In spite of tremendous hardships, she has trusted God and relied on the love of the people she serves. Life doesn’t get easier for her because she became obedient to her calling. It becomes more rewarding as she realizes she is making a difference.

     This level of devotion reminds me of the many friends who serve the Lord in other countries. They have decided to faithfully minister full time and teach others what they themselves know about God. They are committed to living a life honoring God as they try to introduce Jesus to many who have no idea. It sounds easy, but such commitments are tough and stress a person’s dedication, focus and desire. Continuous prayer, bible study, support of friends and family and a deep faith helps them overcome the toughest of obstacles. 

     To put things in perspective, I reflect on a recent disaster that affected much of my state, Alabama. A few months ago, a tornado swept through killing many. It’s impact also destroyed homes and knocked out our community’s electricity for a week. We had no lights, hot water, air conditioning, gas, food or television. We were otherwise unscathed and therefore had many options to escape the inconveniences. One such plan included heading to stay with family in the next state. However, we made the choice to stay and join our church in helping neighbors and community recover.

     Since we had no direct impact, our days were spent volunteering with tornado recovery, trying to keep frozen food from spoiling, cooking food that we could rescue, gathering with neighbors and sharing food until it got too dark. We went to bed as shadows blanketed our homes and woke up with the sun creeping into our   windows. After a week, we were well into the rhythm of survival when the power was suddenly restored.   That week of inconvenience turned into a wonderful time to get closer to our families, friends and gather closer as a community. But this was a onetime experience, one that we quickly recovered from.

     In contrast, I'm reminded of friends in foreign places. Some locations are remote and electricity only runs for part of the day. Intermittent electricity is the norm, transportation is unreliable, language translation is fallible and customs are strange. Dinner may take several hours as meat has to be bought, water has to be sanitized, vegetables have to be cooked and ingredients have to be gathered that day. Businesses, stores, government services and doctor’s offices may not be available every day.  

     If family members get ill, there is no immediate visit to a doctor’s office. If foreign government services are needed, it may take days or weeks of waiting in a faraway city. As missionaries they have choices. They can return to the comfort of living in the US or they can remain where they are. My suspicion is that they have a strong pull to serve God right where they are. This desire far outweighs the convenience that they could be experiencing. Like Marta, they are right where they should be, enjoying the impact they are making.

Leaving a Lasting Legacy-Be careful what you write (or post)

What's In Your Legacy 

A well known politician has been brought into accountability for something he wrote many years ago. In one of his novels he wrote about a graphic and violent act. Whether or not he intended it to be gratuitous or simply part of the developing storyline, he will now be known for writing something that has called into question his ability to lead.

I had a similar experience many years ago as I worked on my first novel. I had not dedicated myself to writing values based fiction at the time. However, once I had typed (yes on a typewriter) the first 80 pages, I decided to destroy the manuscript. It wasn't a hard choice, the manuscript was pure garbage. I did not want my legacy to be tainted by something that may have done well in the mainstream, but may have caused others to question my character. It definitely was not uplifting fiction and I had decided then and there to get rid of it. 

I try to write uplifting fiction that is thrilling to the reader. It can be done and many fine authors have done so. Heroes can be brave without compromising integrity or using gratuitous swearing, gore or sex. I have come to realize that and analyze not only the book cover, but between the pages. 

What kind of treasures are you storing? This above passage doesn't simply refer to money, but the kind of life we are leading and how we will be judged once we are gone. Make your decision now to live a life of character that can't be questioned. Don't compromise for the quick and easy gain, but hang in there for the long haul.

10 Second Hero

10 Second Hero

Writing is very rewarding. It is also surprising. Many people asked about how I came up with the characters in Commitment. You have asked questions like ..."where did they come from?" and "Are they reflection of real life people?" My answer is that very few characters in Under the Lontar Palm are based on real people. Most have evolved from the story.
The following is an example of a character that evolved and lived for about 10 seconds. He was a thought or a mental role I played as I tried to transition and introduce the miners to the village. However trivial I thought the character to be, others have commented on his importance. His 10 seconds left an impression. I'll introduce the passage again and hope you enjoy recalling the story.

Mist covered the early morning ground as a lone figure took his usual position under the overhang. The sentinel stared into the jungle watching until sunrise, waiting for the return of his wife and children. He didn’t know if they were alive or dead, but held to the hope that one day he would be reunited. Dew fell, dropping on large wet leaves, a
torturous reminder of the seconds ticking by. Pretty soon the sun would be up, and he would have to go on with his business. But until then, he would watch and wait.
Suddenly in the darkness, he saw a small movement. He couldn’t see shapes; they were still obscured by the cloak of darkness. But he was sure he had seen something. Yes, there it was again. This time there was more movement and sounds of shuffling feet.
Could it be? Is my family coming back? After all these years, the jungle was surrendering them. Very cautiously, he stood, and crept slowly over to them. He took care not to startle them into fleeing. They had been gone so long, he wasn’t sure they would recognize him.
His heart pounded and the lump in his throat grew until he thought he might suffocate. Still, onward he crept. He was so close now, within ten feet. Unable to contain himself, he leapt forward as a whimper of excitement, and a longing eternal moan rose from his breast. Instead of the waiting arms of his family, the last thing the sad man saw was the grimace of an unknown white jungle demon.

I hope that you have enjoyed this reflection. If you have any questions or comments, please do so here.

Prologue from Commitment-The Novel

PROLOGUE – 1969

“Raymond!” Marta screamed. Her heart threatened to leap through her chest and her lungs burned with exhaustion.

He can’t be dead, she thought. Even yesterday when the runner had limped out of the triple canopy forest bearing the bad news of Suman’s and Raymond’s deaths, she refused to believe.

Maybe he didn’t die. My husband isn’t a man of war.

Marta continued to sprint toward the four men bearing the bodies of two fallen comrades. She saw sadness, fatigue and shame on their faces.

He doesn’t look like Raymond, she thought with a spark of hope. She stopped just short of the tired and beaten men. But she knew it was him. His soul was gone, taking with it all his identifiable character and charm.

Her eyes focused on the gruesome puncture mark and dried blood on his thigh. It was too much. The knot gripping her stomach loosened and she became sick. She could barely feel herself fall on Raymond’s chest. It was as if she watched the scene from outside of her body. She heard her good friend Numah anguishing over her man’s equally lifeless body.

Marta couldn’t feel the arms of others trying to comfort her. Everything she had grown accustomed to now seemed foreign.

Who keeps screaming Raymond’s name? She couldn’t feel her body or hear her own screams. For the first time in her life, Marta was completely numb.